“I know we’ll stand out more in a smaller town. But there will also be fewer dead people hanging out to potentially complicate life.” I keep my voice low, since we’re past lights-out and I really should be back in my own room. It’s not the first time I’ve been grateful that Libra sleeps like a rock. A snoring rock, but still . . . “I’m thinking middle-of-nowhere Ohio. Or Iowa. Someplace with more corn and cows than people.”
Deo gives me a long look over the top of the computer screen, slowly arching one eyebrow. Even by the dim light of the computer screen I can tell the eyebrow is lined in dark blue, just like his eyes, and they make his point without the need for a single word. Deo and rural don’t mix well. He lived at a group home in rural Maryland for six months. Six very bad months, between the fact that the place was horribly run and the fact that the kids at the local middle school had little tolerance for Deo’s sense of style.
We’ve been over this several times already. He might be safe here, once I’m gone. But he’s made it clear that he’s coming. And the truth is, I’m not sure that leaving him behind is an option for me either, since all I can say is that he might be safe. Not knowing would make me crazy.
“Fine, Deo. Where do you suggest?”
“What about Asheville, North Carolina? I’d still prefer Chicago, but Asheville meets your criteria of moderate size and off the East Coast. And Rolling Stone called it the ‘new Freak Capital’ a few years back, so . . . I think we’d both fit in pretty well, don’t you?”
“When does the next bus leave? And how much?”
“Not until Sunday. Tickets would be thirty bucks more than Chicago.”
“Each?”
He nods and rolls his shoulders, the way he always does when he’s stressed, before looking back down at the screen.
“We’d have enough left for dinner at Taco Bell when we arrived. Assuming we didn’t eat anything on the bus trip. Also assuming that we stick to the dollar menu.”
I fall back onto the ancient beanbag and unplug my phone, which clearly needs a new battery. The stupid thing seems to slide straight from fully charged to mostly dead since I got it back from Porter.
It’s after midnight. Kelsey’s probably already asleep. And even though I hate, hate, hate having to bring her into this, I don’t see any other options.
But she answers on the first ring. Maybe she wasn’t asleep after all.
“Anna! Where are you?”
“Back at Bart House.” I give her a brief rundown of the past few hours, leaving out any names and any words that might put the conversation onto some sort of automatic alert with the NSA or whatever, then conclude with a simple plea. “She knows, Kelsey. Deo and I need to get out of here, which means I need a loan. I promise I’ll pay you back, and we won’t tell anyone that you helped.”
“Anna.” She was silent the entire time I was talking, not even stopping me to ask questions, and her voice has the same tone it always does when she’s trying to calm me down. “I can’t just let the two of you take off on your own like that. You may be close to eighteen, but technically speaking, you’re still a minor. Deo’s barely fifteen. I have an obligation to—”
“It’s okay, Kelsey.” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “I understand.”
“Don’t you dare hang up. Let me finish.”
I take my finger off the button. Kelsey’s not psychic, but she knows me so well it’s spooky.
“I was saying that I have an obligation to be sure you’re safe. But that doesn’t mean I think you should be at Bartholomew House right now. Maybe . . .” Her voice trails off for a moment. “Have you taken your sleeping medication yet?”
“No.”
“That’s good. Can you get out at this hour?”
“Think so. Not that either of us has actually done it, but . . .”
“Take whatever belongings you need and meet me here at the house. Do you remember the address?”
Deo, who’s close enough to hear the question, shakes his head. “That’s probably the first place they’ll look.”
“I know,” Kelsey responds. “I said to come here. I didn’t say you’re staying here.”